Local Facebook groups were originally created so neighbors could share useful information. However, many of these groups have quietly evolved into what might best be described as an unofficial customer service department for the entire town.
Instead of contacting the place that actually has the answer, people often ask the Facebook group. And the questions can be quite specific.
“Does anyone know how to do a global money transfer from TD Bank to ANZ Bank in Australia, and how long it will take until he gets it? My cousin’s birthday is next week and I want to send him some money.”
You read a question like that and wonder if the person has considered the radical possibility of asking the bank. The bank, after all, is the organization that specializes in transferring money internationally and they do it hundreds of times a day.
But no. The investigation has been brought to the community. Within minutes, the replies begin.
“Maybe try PayPal or Revolut. I’ve used them a few times.”
“What’s Revolut?” This is usually asked by someone other than the original poster.
“My cousin sent money overseas once.”
Someone else suggests going to the branch, calling them, or checking the website. Which is exactly what most people would have done in the first place.
Another favorite category involves retail questions.
“Does the local Home Hardware carry coffeemakers?”
This question appears in a Facebook group that contains hundreds of residents, none of whom actually work at the store. But the question is asked anyway. And once again, the community responds.
“I think I saw one there.” “Maybe.” “They carry small appliances sometimes.” “Try Canadian Tire.”
Eventually, someone posts the revolutionary suggestion. “You could call them or check their website.”
Which seems like a reasonable idea, although it arrives several comments into the discussion.
Then there are the government service questions.
“What do I need to get a passport?”
This one appears frequently. You might assume that passports are handled by a government agency with an official website containing detailed instructions. And you would be correct. But why go to the source when the neighborhood Facebook group is available?
The responses pour in.
“You need a birth certificate.” “And photos.” “I think you need two references.” “My daughter got one last year but I forgot what she needed.”
Someone eventually posts a link to the official government website, which contains the exact information that could have been found in about six seconds with a search engine. But by that point, the thread already has fifteen comments.
What makes these posts so fascinating is not the lack of available information. It’s the instinct to ask the crowd first. Rather than contacting the bank, the store, or the government office that actually knows the answer, the question is directed to several hundred neighbors who may or may not have any relevant knowledge.
In a strange way, it’s a modern version of asking the town square.
Years ago, someone might have walked down the street and asked their neighbor if they knew where to buy a good coffeemaker.
Today, the same impulse appears online. The difference is that instead of asking one person, you’re asking three hundred. And many of them are guessing. Still, there’s something slightly charming about it. It shows that people still think of their community as a place where questions can be asked, and help might appear from unexpected places.
Even if the most accurate answer is usually the same one that was available all along.
Call the store. Ask the bank. Or visit the website that explains exactly how to get a passport.
But then again, if everyone did that, the local Facebook group would be a much quieter place. And we’d lose one of the most entertaining features of modern community life.
johnberkovich.com 